Mark Cook had previously written for publications such as the Tampa Tribune and In The Field Magazine, but spent the last decade as an editor and Bucs beat writer for Pewter Report.
I first met him as a senior at USF, interviewing for an internship with Pewter Report. I overdressed, with polished shoes and a Ralph Lauren dress shirt tucked into my slacks. Mark, on the other hand, was wearing shorts and a hat and a polo, along with his signature Vans sneakers.
Mark was gruff and curmudgeonly but in the best possible way, a persona that he wore proudly like they were just another one of his Florida State or Hurley baseball caps. He was honest. He’d give me blunt criticism about my writing or my reporting, sometimes whether I wanted it or not. Then he’d turn around on occasion and lift me up with sincere words of encouragement when I least expected it, sometimes when I didn’t even know that I needed it.
Mark was always the funniest person in the room, he could truly make you laugh like no one else could. He made everyone around him feel comfortable and welcome and I think that’s what drew so many to him. He saw people as people, he’d go the extra mile for you, he cared and he loved.
He loved his Florida State Seminoles, telling stories about Bobby Bowden and reliving that 2013 National Championship as he ribbed my USF fandom or squabbled over rivalry games with our former colleague Trevor Sikkema, a University of Florida grad.
He loved long-time sports writer Tom McEwen. He loved playing guitar, watching a sunset on the beach at Anna Maria Island and fishing. He never missed the chance to throw out a line, whether that be in a retention pond along the side of the road in Wesley Chapel, just minutes before we were scheduled to record an old episode of the Pewter Report Podcast, or in a water hazard at wide receiver Mike Evans’ charity golf tournament. And no, I’m not kidding. He rode around that beautiful course all day on a golf cart, fishing pole in hand.
Mark loved Plant City. He never missed a chance to show off that grainy photo of himself laced up for the Pinecrest Pilots in 1978, with a red bowl cut haircut to top it off, or threaten to throw on his old Plant City Raiders’ jersey for some Oklahoma drills in the parking lot when he was fired up.
A southern boy at heart, Mark loved smoked mullet and black eyed peas and collard greens. Actually, he loved most homestyle cooking when I think back about it. He loved Merle Haggard and George Jones and The Drive-By Truckers.
Mark loved the Buccaneers, following them since 1977 when he first started watching football with his dad. He would recall the 1979 Bucs team that came within 10 points of a Super Bowl, the anguish of years and years of losing football and he loved to bring up the old creamsicle-colored Bucs footie pajamas that he wore as a kid, ordered straight out of a Sears catalog.
It almost seems beautiful in a way, that the last game Mark attended while covering the Bucs was a Super Bowl victory, right here at home in Tampa. In Mark’s world, the Bucs will forever be champions.
But more than anything, Mark loved his family. He loved his long-time girlfriend Daisey and his son Douglas, a recent graduate of Durant High School, he was so proud of him. Mark loved a lot, but I saw very few things, if any, that could light up his face like the two of them could.
After Mark passed I thought a lot about a quote that he had pinned to his Twitter account for the longest time, a quote from one of his favorite writers, Lewis Grizzard.
“Don’t forget to call your mama, I wish I could still call mine.”
It made me think about how Mark never let his mother’s birthday or the anniversary of her passing go by without tweeting out a picture or saying how much he missed her. It also made me think about how many people, myself included, wish that they could still call him one more time.
Mark was proud of his Plant City upbringing and a long-time staple at One Buc Place, the Bucs training facility. He left an impact on all those who were lucky enough to know him or even just read his writing over the years, and that’s abundantly evident by the outpouring of love from friends, family, fans, former players, front office members and the Buccaneers organization itself over the past week.
Mark was a great man and a great friend. He was a loving father, brother, son and partner and he will forever be missed.
Rest in Peace.